For decades, Alex Molyneux found ways to convince himself he didn't have a drink problem.
An entrepreneur with a house in a pricey neighbourhood and a Mercedes parked on the drive, Alex was the image of success.
But, behind closed doors, he was drinking himself to oblivion and only just holding his life together.
“I always wore chinos and brogues even at home, the Merc was parked on the drive and I told myself ‘there really is no problem,’" Alex said.
The 53-year-old, from Altrincham , has opened up about his struggle to help others who have found ways of staying in denial about their demons.
“If I had an early appointment I’d try to stop drinking earlier in the evening before, but when I hit the curb on the way, I didn’t stop to pick up my wheel caps because, really, I knew I was over the limit", he said.
“I developed mental rules of never drinking before 6pm, only drinking Smirnoff vodka because ‘alcoholics drink supermarket own brand vodka’ and only wine that cost £10 or more.
“For a good while, I still stuck to my rules, but might be standing over the toilet bringing up bile at 5.30pm looking at my watch thinking ‘I can’t have a drink yet.”
Alex can trace his drink problem back to his first taste of alcohol - aged just 10 - when he was allowed a little wine to ease the pain of a broken toe.
"I felt like Superman," he says.
"All my problems had gone away and I realised ‘this works for me.’"
He describes himself as an anxious child who felt he didn’t fit in, someone who, by his teens, would sometimes drink before school for confidence.
Then, through university and his early career in Manchester's rag trade, Alex masked his dependence with a wild, 'party animal' persona.
Then, when he started his own business importing clothes for high street retailers, the 'work hard, play hard' lifestyle became another way to couch his alcoholism.
"At 30, I was drinking a bottle of vodka a day and set up my own business working from home," he says.
"Then the drink was always there within arm’s length. I’d stopped being ‘the charming eccentric’ to friends and colleagues and the invitations to social events had started to dry up – people were bored of Alex demanding the party continued until 4am.
"People had generally had enough of me and I was starting to isolate myself."
Alex, originally from St Helens, was letting the people closest to him down. Even when he was there physically, he wasn't available emotionally.
He recalls one his lowest moments when he drank a bottle of vodka while babysitting his sister's children.
"No harm came to the children, but I still remember the look on my sister’s face when she got home," says Alex.
By the time Alex hit 40, alcohol was killing him.
He'd switched to drinking Guinness because it was the only thing he could hold down.
But one day his then-partner, who was already on the verge of leaving him, came home and found him collapsed on the floor.
His pancreas had given up and his liver function was down to 5pc.
It was only after a major operation to remove part of his pancreas, three months in hospital and what he describes as a ‘total emotional breakdown’ that Alex began to get well.
He joined Alcoholics Anonymous and spent three years rebuilding himself.
As he recovered, Alex decided it was time for a change in career. He retrained as a senior advisor for Port of Call , a drug and alcohol addiction treatment advice service based in Altrincham.
He has decided to speak out to challenge preconceptions about addiction after Port of Call published its Attitudes to Addiction report.
In Manchester, 59pc of survey respondents said they would ‘possibly’ or ‘definitely’ keep it secret if they were receiving help for addiction.
Alex feels passionately about tackling the shame surrounding addiction.
"People shouldn’t feel ashamed to say they’re going to AA meetings," he adds.
"For me it’s not an issue, it's like going to the gym. I’m in recovery and it’s part of my life."
For him, sobriety has brought a new sense of dignity and self-respect.
“It’s the small things you appreciate, like a walk in Dunham on a sunny day. That’s the joy of it.
“It’s setting the alarm clock for 7am and waking up feeling ready for the day.
"For a long time I was emotionally unavailable for my family.
"Now I can be there for them in the good times and the bad."
